Page 71 of Blade
Coach laughed, as well as a few of the other guys who were standing nearby, but Robert was as stiff as a board. Someone slapped him on the back, and it broke his trance. He let out a few forced laughs to blend in, and, thankfully, no one noticed the sweat beading on his brow or heard his heart pounding.
Coach continued his pre-game morale booster, which had everyone ready to charge onto the field, and Robert’s head finally cleared. He focused on his number-one priority—winning the game—everything else at the moment was inconsequential.
The Bucks’ trotted on the field to tremendous applause and cheers. Kansas City got the kick-off and scored first. Even with their over-the-top exuberance and confidence, the Bucks didn’t get off to a good start, with Kansas City taking the first quarter. By the end of halftime, the Bucks were trailing 13-6, and they returned to the locker room feeling defeated.
“What the fuck are you guys doing out there?” Coach shouted. “You’re better than that! Villalobos, get your head out of your ass and pay fucking attention!”
Robert felt Villalobos shrink next to him.
Coach continued to berate individual players for their mess ups, Robert included, then lifted their spirits and instilled a harder drive to win like no one else in the business. And it worked. The Bucksscored 10 straight points on their first two drives in the third quarter, but they trailed again in the fourth. With two minutes left, they took the lead. Martinez had the ball and was headed straight for the finish line with Robert at his side. No one was getting past him. He ran through two of Kansas City’s players like a bulldozer. Martinez was at the 10-yard line now and Robert could see the win. From the opposite side, Kansas City’s center got through Villalobos and T-boned Martinez, and Robert’s heart sank. But. Wait. Martinez was up after a tuck-and-roll and on his feet running. He did it! Martinez made it past the end line and pulled off the W!
Robert jumped in victory, threw his helmet to the ground, and punched the air. Remington and Carter bounced into him with a hefty hug that almost squashed him like a bug. And Lewinski and Sandler doused Coach in a cooler full of Gatorade.
The crowd went nuts. Everyone was on their feet with their hands in the air. It was surreal and one of the most amazing nights in Robert’s life.
Bottles of champagne were uncorked in the locker room, showering everyone with a spray of foam. They didn’t bother with glasses and guzzled straight from the bottles that were passed around. Johnson and Villalobos obviously didn’t care about the price tag and simultaneously poured the contents of two bottles over Coach’s head.
Robert was flying high because football wasn’t just a game. It was a sport that he lived and breathed his entire life. It fueled his soul, and although winning wasn’t everything, it was the cherry on top. He bumped chests with his teammates and leaned his head back while they poured champagne into his mouth.
“Gather around, everybody!” Coach called, waving everyone over toward the locker room door. “We have a very special visitor who wants to congratulate us.”
“Is it Mrs. Coach again?” Remington asked.
Robert’s heart dropped to his knees. Could Amber’s mother really have such a sadistic sense of humor that she’d show up twice, just to see him squirm? Or, even worse, could it be Amber?
“No,” Coach answered. “I think that was a once-in-a-lifetime visit.”
Robert clutched his chest with his fist from pure relief. He didn’t think he could handle another run-in like last time or if Amber showed up to tell Coach about their relationship right now.
With his hand on the doorknob, Coach announced, “It’s Blade’s father, Martin Blade.”
While the team cheered, Robert jerked his head up in surprise. “Dad?”
His dad wore a huge smile, clearly enamored by the attention, as he shook hands with Coach and the guys, who all lined up to greet him. The man looked downright youthful, and Robert imagined what his father was like in his days as a college football star.
Robert pushed through his teammates to get to his dad, who was still shaking hands and engaged in conversations with the team. “Dad. What are you doing here?”
Robert’s dad looked up, and his eyes brightened further. “Robert. Congratulations, son. Great game.”
They exchanged an embrace, which seemed extra warm and included several pats on the back. His dad pulled back and squeezed Robert’s shoulders before letting go. “I had to come and see my son win his third Super Bowl. You’re an amazing athlete. I’m so proud of you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I could’ve gotten you a seat on the field. Is Mom here too?” He looked over his dad’s shoulder, as if she would have the nerve to enter the locker room.
“No. I came alone. What about your girlfriend? I hope she’s here to see you take home the championship.”
“No!” The word came out too loud and almost panicky. “She couldn’t make it. She had a work thing.”
“That girl of yours.” His dad smiled affectionately. “So dedicated to her profession. Have you met her?” he asked Coach.
“No!” Robert shouted again. His heartrate sped up so fast he was sure his chest was going to explode. He tried to pull his dad away from Coach and the guys, but the man stood rock solid.
“I don’t think any of us have met her,” Coach answered. “Blade, why are you hiding your girlfriend? Afraid Martinez is going to steal her away?”
It was kind of an inside joke, since before Amber, Robert and Martinez were the two lady killers on the team, and the guys all laughed.
“Damn right!” Martinez answered, brandishing a devilish smile.
“Hold on there, young man.” Robert’s dad waggled a finger at Martinez. “I don’t think Am—”
